Chapter 1: The Cave Bedroom
The night before Peter will battle Miraz, Edmund sits in his cave room, trying desperately to sleep but failing miserably. He feels old again, so old. It's not unusual anymore - he feels his history weighing him down, dragging at the corners of his mind.
The Witch's reappearance makes him feel young and foolish, too, and odd. He has grown so much since then - aged a lifetime and lost it all, grown a few earth years, and learned lessons - but he is the same stupid boy at the center of him, still wanting desperately to win at something. To be someone's favorite.
The light from the doorway is blocked; Edmund looks up. Caspian stands in the doorway tentatively.
"Are you alright?" he asks in his accented English, and Edmund sighs, bangs his head against the wall behind him.
"Fine."
Caspian says nothing but does not leave. He seems torn between leaving and entering, and Edmund wishes he'd choose the former. Edmund is not one who enjoys being with other people; he has always preferred to be on his own. He prefers to be by himself, reading a book and learning rather than being out among the people as Peter loved to be. Perhaps that was why Peter was a better king. Always the better king.
"Your sister was looking for you," says Caspian, and Edmund laughs.
"I think Susan was probably looking for you," he says, laughing, but there is no humor in it; it sizzles out of his mouth wrapped in a sigh. "You seem to have made an impression on her."
Susan would kill him for saying this, but she's not here and Edmund's feeling angsty. What else is new.
"Oh, yes, that," says Caspian, blushing slightly. "Actually, Lucy's looking for you."
Interesting reaction, thinks Edmund. In their years before in Narnia, Edmund has seen men fall over themselves for his older sister. Courtiers used to come all the time to Cair Paravel to win Susan over, and she'd always accept their gifts but never their affections in the snide graciousness she always seemed to exude. Edmund never understood how aloof Susan managed to take to court life so naturally - she was the master of all the lords, who threw themselves at her, desiring just to touch her, to be with her, and she never accepted any of them - at least, not publicly. Edmund was sure Susan had taken her share of loves, secretly and behind closed doors so as not to incite a scandal. She was Loving, Virtuous Susan, after all.
But Edmund knew better. He could always find her around a dark corner, laughing at something a lord whispered in her ear. Whenever Edmund caught her, their eyes would meet, his uncertain and bemused, hers unwavering. She always met his gaze with an air of importance. So? her eyes asked. Who are you to judge?
Edmund never judged.
Peter preferred the company of Luna, the beautiful girl from a land across the sea. She was perfect and blond and the two were married when Peter turned twenty-two and Luna was eighteen, and everything was lovely and they loved each other until the end of the Pevensie rule in Narnia. Peter had died when they'd returned to find everyone gone; Luna had perished with the memory of Peter by her side, the imprint still on her bed.
Even Lucy, he assumed, had taken up with men from court, but she, of course, was almost virginal in her love, completely devoted to Aslan and the Good of Narnia. She could not be deterred.
Edmund, however, found no one to love. He preferred to be alone. He preferred long walks on the shores, strolls through the forest. He preferred to write in the leather notebook always in his tunic, sometimes just to sit on the cliffs and watch the world below. Edmund was content with Narnia. He did not need a lover. He supposed he loved Aslan, but that was obviously of a different nature entirely, and Aslan always was off with Lucy, walking and talking an discussing things while Edmund seemed to constantly forget about his importance. Perhaps that's why Lucy was a better queen than Edmund was king.
"Edmund?"
Edmund shakes his head to clear away the memories. "Right. Well, I'll be in here. If you see her again, you can tell her that."
Caspian frowns slightly but says nothing again. "May I come in?"
Edmund sighs but beckons him in with one hand. Sitting across from Edmund on the floor, Caspian's face is half-lit by the light pouring in from the doorway; it turns his skin golden, the other half dark.
"What is it like, to be back?" asks Caspian softly, and Edmund casts his eyes downward.
It is hell. It is heaven.
"It's...different," settles Edmund. "It's never the same as it was. And it's odd to be back here when I've lived here my whole life, but I'm younger than I was before. To remember all the days I've lived in these lands but I was older then."
"Is it a pleasant feeling, to remember?" Caspian wants to know.
"No," says Edmund automatically, even though the judgment isn't fair. Of course it's pleasant sometimes, to look up to the ruins of Cair Paravel and remember the feasts and the dancing and the golden days in which everything was long and luxurious. When nothing was in peril. When his brother wasn't about to die.
Caspian is silent for a moment. "Do you dislike me?"
Edmund looks up at him; Caspian looks back but diverts his gaze to the floor.
"No," says Edmund firmly. "I don't dislike you. What would make you think that?"
Caspian thinks for a moment. "You seem...distant," he decides. "Peter is threatened by me a little, I can tell. Susan is...taken with me, and Lucy I don't think has ever disliked anyone. But you're - distant."
"Yes, well," mutters Edmund. "That's sort of my thing."
Caspian raises his eyebrows and his gaze.
"Did they ever tell you about the first time we were here?" Edmund asks. Caspian shakes his head.
"I'm the reason Aslan died," says Edmund bitterly. "I'm the reason the Witch came back the other night. I'm the reason Aslan doesn't rule now, and the Telmarines ruled and killed all the Narnians, and I'm the reason we're all in danger now. If Aslan had always ruled as he should've, none of this would have happened."
"And you blame yourself," supplies Caspian.
Edmund sighs impatiently. "Yes."
"But - " begins Caspian, wondering, " - if Aslan hadn't died, he wouldn't have been able to die for you."
Edmund furrows his brow. "So?"
"From what I've learned about Narnia as it was and the legend of Aslan - "
" - It's not a legend," says Edmund reflexively, and Caspian concedes this with a nod.
" - Yes, what I've learned about Aslan, it seems that Aslan needed to die for you, to redeem you. To redeem all Narnians. If he'd just died, there wouldn't have been much of a point, would there've?"
"I don't understand," says Edmund blankly, and Caspian smiles faintly in the glow of the light from outside.
"Neither do I," he says. Standing, he brushes off his legs. "Thank you for telling me these things."
When he leaves, Edmund feels sort of blank, as if things are coming unraveled.
Caspian finds Edmund interesting. Which is a dangerous step, because it's not the first time he's found a boy - a man - interesting. There was Fernando, the boy who was fifteen and beautiful and looked like the sun over the ocean, and Caspian had fallen completely head over heels in love with him when Fernando's mother found them kissing one day behind a hedge in the garden and sent Fernando off to live with a cousin far away.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't attracted to Edmund. Peter is much too noble for his taste. And he likes a sense of history in a person. The kind of history that settles on Edmund's shoulders no matter where he goes, the kind that is pressuring the frown that almost always graces Edmund's face. His dark, beautiful face.
Caspian pretends he isn't attracted to Edmund because admitting it is the next step to losing something he can never have. Not that he wants to have Edmund...he just wants -
Caspian finds himself drawn to Edmund's room almost every night, lit by the light from the outside, and they talk. Mostly Caspian asks questions and Edmund answers in his short, bitter way, and Caspian asks more questions. They talk about how Edmund thinks Peter is much better than him. They talk about how Edmund feels responsible for everything that happens to his siblings and to Narnia. He feels guilty that it was his brother battling Miraz, even though he's the better swordsman. And one night, instead of conversing through the light of the door, Caspian closes it behind him as he enters. It is dark for a moment before Edmund coolly lights a few candles.
"Hello," says Caspian in the dark.
"Hello," says Edmund.
When Caspian kisses him softly, Edmund gasps but does not pull away.
So much for ignoring it.
Edmund's head is filled with Caspian and his arms are filled with Caspian and his mouth is filled with Caspian and everything is all Caspian. He smells like smoke and sweet air, and when Edmund lies with his head on Caspian's chest, it doesn't matter that they're going to lose the battle. It doesn't matter that Aslan's left or Peter's better than him or that he's an old man stuffed in a young boy's body. All that matters is that he can hear Caspian's heartbeat beneath his ear, feel his breath on his cheek, feel his lips on the top of his head.
"Thank you," says Caspian into Edmund's hair, and Edmund doesn't know what Caspian's thanking him for, but it doesn't matter. Edmund doesn't know half of what Caspian says anymore. Caspian is filled with a ridiculous sense of tentative wisdom, and it seeps into Edmund's head addictively. He starts to think everything is beautiful around him, and he starts to come out of the hole he'd dug for himself.
No one knows but Lucy, and even Lucy only knows through intuition. Only Lucy sees the glances Caspian and Edmund share. Only Lucy sees Caspian quickly grab Edmund's hand - Caspian is much freer with these things than Edmund - or smile furtively in his direction. Only Lucy sees and Lucy gives Edmund private smiles and is so loving she doesn't make fun of him at all.
Everything is perfect.